The Convergence Creation Week
by Gracie Holmes
Summary: The Convergence Roleplay Forum Creation Week 2016. A different prompted one-shot a day for seven days featuring my characters and their loved ones. Mostly character studies.
1. Day 1 - Naomi's Arrival

**Day 1 - Naomi's Arrival**

 _A sharp pain was driven into her head, accompanied by the too familiar sound which should never have been used against her. She stumbled, feeling hands guide her to her chair, sitting her down and holding her head on the table as the drilling continued._

 _She may have struggled initially, but the tool's power allowed it to immobilize its victims. Soon she stopped, unable to fight back, unable to run away, unable to scream. She was going to die, slowly, painfully, helplessly, and alone. Her hand twitched on the desk as the blood began spilling out of her vessel's head, unabated, too quickly._

 _And then he walked around from behind her, standing just in her line of sight, her eyes frozen open. She had a brief thought, the last face she would see would be his. Her murderer's. She was afraid, completely and utterly terrified._

 _Metatron was wearing a smug smile. He bent down just a bit to get a better look at her. "How's that feel, Naomi? The humans have a phrase for it….Getting a taste of your own medicine. Fitting for a monster like you." He stepped back. "You failed, the angels will fall. Everything you ever worked for is gone. I am God now." Metatron reached in to take her angel sword, whispering the next part in her ear. "Die, bitch."_

 _Eyes fixed open, and vessel slumped over her desk, her grace began the slow implosion, building up inside her until her office faded away...and then..._

Naomi woke in a forest. _Afraid. Angry. Alone._

"Where am I!? What happened?" Naomi cried out, remaining on the forest floor in her usually immaculate grey suit. "Father, forgive me. Oh God help me…"

Death wasn't welcome or expected and she didn't want to accept it. Her timeless energy was brought to a halt and pushed out of existence as if it was no more than a wilted flower.

But something had snatched her up and dropped her in a place on unknowns. Somewhere _anything_ could happen.

That first day had been a whirlwind of untapped and misunderstood emotions. From that first conversation with the cockroach demon to her attempts to fly back to a Heaven that didn't exist. She made mountains quake and left a thunderstorm in her wake. She was dead, she was certain. And now she was trapped, lost, alone in a place without purpose or direction.

With nothing else to do, Naomi started the long process of mourning her own death.

Eventually all the rage and fear whittled down to manageable levels. Then she became a wanderer. She had to make up for what she'd done, with the damage she'd caused. She spoke to few, did what she could when people wanted her help, and spent weeks upon weeks thinking. Lost in her own regrets and struggling to find purpose. Struggling to find her way.

 _Alone._

Then again, being lonely was nothing new, not after thousands of years keeping distant. And that loneliness didn't dissipate... at least it didn't until she showed up to offer a business arrangement to a unique and intelligent man.

The world she'd found herself in was not an afterlife that anyone intended. But it was hers. It was her second chance. Her last shot. She'd work through the fear and the pain and the _regret._ She'd make it worth every moment through the ups and downs of her emotions. Through the trials and new experiences. Through the spark of a new friendship.

Little did she know what that first meeting with Mycroft Holmes would bring. Little did she know what would develop inside of her. Little did she know the emotions that would come with this new adventure.

There was no telling what The Convergence had in store for her.


	2. Day 2 - Surprising Zariah

**Day 2 - Surprising Zariah**

 _They say that life is full of surprises, that our dreams really can come true. Then again, so can our nightmares._

It was pretty hard to surprise Zariah Hope Celestia Holmes. She was psychic after all. Things like gifts, and plans for the day, and computer passwords were near impossible to get away with hiding if she was in the general location.

Mycroft and Naomi had it down pretty well at this point. Distractions. They'd get her thinking about something else, or lost in a book, or talking about what she did for the day. But each day proved to be a challenge as she got better at honing her gift.

Zariah thought it was a good thing. Meant she had that advantage for when a dangerous situation presented itself. She didn't know any different.

For Zariah, surprises were found in other ways, and nearly everyday. Surprises were found in new experiences.

The first touch of a sandy beach. She remembered it, despite being so little, only a few days old and in her father's arms. She's been completely surprised by the softness of the sand, the way it got stuck between her toes, the bubbles in the water as it kissed the sandy shore. She'd giggled and wiggled and just greeted the new experience with a bright joy.

She was about the same age when she first met the two horses that would become her obsession and closest friends. When Victoria's big black velvety lips nibbled gently at her hand, she'd been scared. The surprise had been evident in her big blue eyes as she stared at the huge thoroughbred. And then she giggled. She laughed and leaned forward to press a kiss to the horse's nose. Both Naomi and Mycroft had laughed with her.

Her first birthday party had been a true and honest surprise, even if she was completely comfortable with the attention. She'd been surprised with the pretty decorations and the way the balloons bounced off of each other when she tugged at the strings. She took her first bite of chocolate cake, wide eyes and big smile when she tasted the rich flavor.

There'd been some not so nice surprises along the way. The tight feeling that accompanied leaving their house and the beach and everything she'd ever known. The surprise that came along with tears when she'd curled up in her Daddy's arms and he didn't know where they would be next.

Zariah had been surprised at the coldness that snow brought in the new world. The way it chilled her to the bone, made her shiver and go numb. The best surprise of that first week in the new location had been their new house. Rich colored wood, expensive rugs, the suits of armor, and the warm fireplaces in her family house.

Each new day of her very short life brought more and more new experiences. The feeling that true anger burned in her chest. The absolute joy of a snowball fight radiating out of her. The accomplished feeling that mastering yet another language brought. The loud bang of a gun and the dizzying fear that came with holding something that could seriously hurt or kill someone. The unexpected flutter that came with holding the hand of someone she think she fancied.

The young Holmes found herself surprised every day. By love. By experiences. By the ending of her most recent reading material. By family. By strangers. She didn't have long, she knew that. But she was going to make every surprise count.


	3. Day 3 - Love and Sherlock Holmes

**Day 3 - Love and Sherlock Holmes**

 _Forever is an awfully long time, but I wouldn't mind spending it by your side._

* * *

" _He was, I take it, the most perfect reasoning and observing machine that the world has seen, but as a lover he would have placed himself in a false position. He never spoke of the softer passions, save with a gibe and a sneer. They were admirable things for the observer- excellent for drawing the veil from men's motives and actions. But for the trained observer to admit such intrusions into his own delicate and finely adjusted temperament was to introduce a distracting factor which might throw a doubt upon all his mental results. Grit in a sensitive instrument, or a crack in one of his own high-power lenses, would not be more disturbing than a strong emotion in a nature such as his." -Arthur Conan Doyle_

Love. The fly in the ointment. The crack in the lens. Emotions so contrary to anything that made Sherlock Holmes the best detective in the world. In _any_ world.

Love was the very opposite of the cold hard logic he held so dear. In all honesty, if he could have cut those emotions out of himself, he would have. But as much as he tried, he'd never completely rid himself of his humanity.

Love what what drove him down this path in the first place.

One could even say that Sherlock Holmes loved so fiercely it encompassed his entire being. Love came so easy to him, in it's many forms and in the strangest of places. Loving the game. Loving the chase. Loving being himself. Love was actually very simple.

Expressing it, however, was another story. Especially towards other people.

Sherlock never had friends before John came along. He'd never expected to be a best friend either, he knew himself. No one in their right mind would be a companion to someone as cold and unpredictable and obnoxious and rude as he was. He broke up relationships. He openly pointed out things that people wanted to keep quiet. He was loud and flamboyant one moment and then disappearing out the door the next. He saw too much and tried too hard to impress people in his own way. But he learned in childhood that society didn't accept people who were different.

No one said Doctor John Hamish Watson was in his right mind. He was as man who went to war. A soldier and a doctor. A killer and a healer. He both balanced Sherlock out and willingly lost himself to the adventure. Between them there was mutual understanding. Mutual love. Neither Sherlock nor John would have said in so many words. It took until Mary's influence for either of them to express it openly.

Love came in many forms, but the way Sherlock had least expected to feel it was romantically. Whether he hadn't thought himself capable, didn't want to, or willed it away for work, it was impossible to pin down. He dismissed romantic love as frivolous and unnecessary, because it was. It would slow him down. So he abstained, cut it out because he had no need for it. Besides, it wasn't like he could be a good boyfriend or lover. He wasn't built for it. At least that's what he had thought.

Natalia Alianovna Romanova was no ordinary lover, nor an ordinary woman. She provided balance and intrigue and understanding. This had captured his attention and reeled him in. They made each other human, putting away difficult pasts and leaving room for a future. She saw him in ways others didn't. She saw the passion and love underneath the rest of him. One kiss on the beach and he found himself falling into an unexpected experience.

But when love was both logical and illogical, he decided he could accept it. It wouldn't interfere with work that didn't exist in this Convergence world. And even back home...for Natasha he thought he'd be able to balance it.

This place also had provided an unique opportunity to reconcile with his brother. The world had changed them both, for the better. And ever so slowly, they had begun to learn how to express brotherly compassion and love. Forgiving old scores and resentments. Moving forward as a family. Falling absolutely in love with Mycroft's unexpected daughter.

Mycroft Holmes was horrid at expressing love too. They hadn't ever been very good at it, and that caused a rift that constantly needed healing. A world of trials and twists seemed a good a place as any to fix it. Sherlock didn't regret that. He longed for it. He needed people to love and be loved by.

Sherlock Holmes _loved,_ perhaps too much. From the woman who counted to his trusted housekeeper to his best friend's wife, he was filled with it to the point of bubbling over. To the point of doing _anything_ for them.

Anyone who said differently…well they were just unobservant and ordinary.


	4. Day 4 - Death of Hope

**Day 4 - Death of Hope**

 _There_ _can be no rebirth without a dark night of the soul, a total annihilation of all that you believed in and thought that you were._

"Zariah?" Naomi called into the darkness, searching for her daughter. Her voice echoing through the walls of the hidden cove's extensive maze. "Love, where are you?" Her heeled boots made little scruffy sounds as she walked.

She'd expected to find her curled up and scared. She'd expected to scope her up and take her home. To hold her close and wipe the tears away as a mother should. She didn't expect to find her like this…

Zariah's body was splayed out and twisted. Head tilted back unnaturally and mouth gaping open in a silent scream. Blood trickled from a blow to her head, staining her dark brown hair with slick black clotted blood.

"No." Naomi couldn't move. She couldn't think. She just stopped, sinking down next to the still body, and pulling it into her arms. It was stiff, locked in tortured place. She'd been dead for hours. Their beautiful little girl, whose giggle never stopped and whose bright mind was ever curious… Mycroft's daughter was dead. The childless mother doubled over with body-wracking sobs, clutching the lifeless corpse to her chest...

 _"A cry was heard in Ramah-weeping and great mourning. Rachel weeps for her children, refusing to be comforted, for they are dead. _"_ \- Matthew 2:18_

Naomi jolted awake, breaking away from Mycroft's arms where she'd been mediating as he slept. Her breaths came rapidly and her blue eyes were wide in the darkness of their bedroom. She stifled a sob with her hand.

Naomi's last and painful encounter with Lucifer wasn't going to be an easy recovery. He'd tortured her, made her see things that she never wanted to see. She'd been hurt both physically and mentally. And while the former had been taken care of through a quick respawning, the latter left a lasting impression. Haunting her memories in even the quietest moments.

Mycroft woke to Naomi's quick breaths, and the barest shift in weight on the bed. He'd been tired enough after hours of going over safety measures that he'd been sleeping dreamlessly. Opening his eyes, he reached for her in the darkness and pulled her close to his chest.

"Naomi," he spoke, voice heavy with sleep. "Everything alright?"

"I'm fine," she whispered, lacking the confidence to make that statement believable. She gripped his shirt and double-checked that Zariah was still sleeping in her bedroom. She breathed out slowly, resting her forehead against his. "We're both fine. It was only a nightmare."

Mycroft smoothed a gentle hand down her back, brow knit with concern. He tried catching a peek of her face once his eyes adjusted. "What sort of nightmare? Lucifer?"

"Dark echoes of what he did, yes, I wasn't aware it would happen." Naomi relaxed with his touch, glancing up to meet his eyes. "It will pass."

"Of course," he said quietly, but the concern was still there, for Naomi's wellbeing and peace of mind. "In the meantime, I am here if you need me. Perhaps it would help if we talked about it."

"In the morning, we'll talk," Naomi assured him. She reached up to cup his cheek, fingers light over warm skin. "Go back to sleep, darling. I think I'm going to check on our daughter. For my own peace of mind."

Mycroft pressed the softest kiss to her lips. "Very well," he said quietly when he'd pulled away. "Wake me up if you need me."

"I always need you," Naomi didn't smile, but her voice was appreciative. She left the warmth of the bed and safety of his arms, and stood, pulling on a black silk dressing gown.

Naomi's wings whispered in the dark as she landed in Zariah's bedroom. The girl's eyes were pinched in fitful sleep, her covers thrown to the side. Naomi sat on the side of the bed, reaching to touch her daughter's head. The girl was lost in her own version of a nightmare. Events from the day muddled together in the young impressionable mind. Brow furrowed in concern, Naomi dispelled the nightmare quickly, banishing it into nothingness.

Zariah's expression relaxed but she stirred from her slumber. "Hmm, Mum?" She peeked up at her. "M'whatcha doing?"

"Just checking up on you," Naomi said softly. She ran her fingers through Zariah's messy hair, using the other hand to pull the covers back over her. "You were having a nightmare."

Zariah closed her eyes again, relaxing with her touch and the warmth of the blankets. "I know…I couldn't get out of it." She drew a shaky breath in. "I…saw you and Dad, and you were both…not moving. I…I think you were dead and not coming back. And there was blood everywhere….Dad, he was burned too…" Her voice hitched as the memories from the nightmare grew more vivid. "It was so real. Because it happened today, you were tortured and…and Dad felt so…"

"I know, love." Naomi's heart broke for her little girl. As it did frequently. "But it was just a nightmare and memories of what has been done. We're both okay. I'm still here. Takes more than an archangel to keep me away."

"Can you stay with me?" Zariah asked softly. She tugged on Naomi's sleeve. "I don't want to be alone."

"I will never leave you. I promise." Naomi pulled her hand away only to join her under the covers. She wrapped her little girl up in her arms, as she'd done when she was much younger. And as she'd done after retuning from the hell Lucifer put her under. Zariah snuggled close, breathing in deeply, lulled to peaceful sleep with the warmth of her mother's arms and the steady beat of her heart. Quiet and comforted, as if death couldn't touch her.

Naomi watched as Zariah's eyes closed again, and it was then she whispered. "I love you forever."

She watched over their daughter the rest of the night until the sun rose over a new day. Naomi would be Zariah's guardian angel now and forever, or until one of them ceased to exist.

* * *

Co-written with Angie (Red on Pointe).


	5. Day 5 - John's Family

**Day 5 - John's Family**

 _Blood makes you related, loyalty makes you family and family is where life begins and love never ends._

John Watson breathed in deeply as he woke up at the beginning of another day. The light from the rising sun had just started peeking from behind the curtain.

He turned his head to the side to look at his wife. Mary was curled up next to him, her hand on his and her face towards him. In the dim light he caught the sparkle of her wedding ring. John smiled softly. He reached over to gently brush her blonde hair away from her face.

Today, the 14th of July, was the year anniversary of his arrival in The Convergence.

Not that he'd be celebrating of sorts, it was just something to ponder. He'd never expected to stay a year in this place. He hadn't expected most of the things that had happened.

It'd been a bit of a rollercoaster. Well, more than a bit if he had to be frank. From the whole process of watching himself on the screen, to finding out through a television show about Mary's past and future, to the incessant changes they went through almost every week. It wasn't easy being there, and it certainly would have been worse had he been alone.

That first day, John had been working through more than just an arrival in a convergence of realities. The bomb had been dropped that Mary was pregnant. It's not that he'd not planned on ever being a father. But he also hadn't planned on it. Medical school was one thing, then training, then Afghanistan, then suddenly he was almost forty and still single. Sherlock's 'death' didn't help the matter either.

He'd never been very good at being family. His parents were dead, his sister off drinking herself to death, no extended family worth knowing. He kept few friends and most, thanks to Sherlock's deductions, didn't even like him. People always left John Watson.

Until Mary. Mary hadn't run away when there were night terrors. She hadn't skipped out when his PTSD kicked in again. She let him hold onto Sherlock's memory and waited for him to open up about it. She listened to him talk about Sherlock and solving crimes and finding fingers in the fridge, laughing quietly along the way.

And now they were having a baby. He reckoned he was going to wait a lot longer than most fathers did to meet their child, being stuck in the Convergence.

At least Mary was here, at least Sherlock was here. As well as the slew of people that had become to him like family. Better than family really, blood wasn't a requirement. So as he swapped 'living with Sherlock' stories with Natasha, and asked questions about history with Naomi, and planned with Mycroft, and laughed with Zariah, and spent time with his best friend…he found himself blessed with a family. A unique and messed up family, but loyal and true and willing to do whatever it took to stay sane and safe. He'd keep them as long as possible.

John was long in thought for a long time, just staring at his beautiful, fierce, mysterious wife. Mary woke up, her sleepy blue eyes fluttered open. John smiled his sidewise smirk and closed the distance to steal a kiss. "Morning, love."


	6. Day 6 - Holmes Home

**Day 6 - Holmes Home**

 _I was born very far from where I am meant to be and now I am on my way home_.

221B Baker Street was Sherlock's. He knew where everything was. At least if he'd been the one that had put something down. John had a tendency to move things and put them not where they were supposed to be.

Annoying.

But Sherlock had glossed over it for the most part. Because misplaced things meant he had a flatmate. He had someone around, to help him think, to encourage him. Not that he'd say that in so many words. But Sherlock Holmes had been very lonely before John came along. And when he was two years on the run.

When John 'got on with his life' Sherlock had scoffed. Like he'd expected John to just wait around for a dead man, to haunt the halls of their home until the day his long dead friend could burst back into his life. Sherlock had been given a rude awakening. John moved out.

He'd moved out because Sherlock had died. John moved away because each reminder of Sherlock around the flat had been too painful to think about. Sherlock hadn't understood that. Not until he got back home and his flat was empty. Until he saw John's empty chair and realized the he wasn't ever going to live there again.

John wasn't dead, of course. Just getting married. That was almost just as bad.

So although Sherlock was alive and he'd gone home to 221B again, it wasn't _really_ home. Home wasn't an empty flat.

Home wasn't so much a place, but a _feeling_.

The wedding had been lovely, just beautiful. Crime solved and everything. And Sherlock had left. Molly was dancing with her fiancé. Janine had found a date. John and Mary lost in the privacy needed for the baby news. Mycroft hadn't even bothered to show, not that that would have been enjoyable. But at least he wouldn't have been alone.

Sherlock walked out that night into the cool spring air and didn't quite plan on waking up in a pocket universe. 221B wasn't there. Instead it had been a house suited for his every desire. Similar to 221B, but still very different. At least John had been close. So Sherlock settled in. He didn't need London, he just needed his people.

And here in the Convergence his home grew bigger, even as 221B itself followed him in. That _feeling_ encompassed people and memories, not a building. Memories of playing with his dog. Of sneaking cigarettes with his brother while their wives chatted. Of laughing so hard with John his sides hurt. Of holding his niece for the first time. Of dancing with his smiling bride and marveling at the oddity of it all.

'Home' was Natasha. 'Home' was John. Home was where he was loved and accepted. Home was where he was _seen_ and understood. Where his needs were met and he mattered more than just his intellect. Home was where he was praised and encouraged.

Home equaled love and family.

He was home in the Convergence, despite it's downsides. He was home because all those things were true from the ones he surrounded himself with. He'd never stop struggling with addiction. He'd never stop missing his work, London, and being 'Sherlock Holmes'. But those things weren't the entirety of home.

He was already there.


	7. Day 7 - Someday Departure

**Day 7 - Someday Departure**

 _Those we love don't just go away, they walk beside us every day… unseen, unheard but always near. Still loved, still missed and very dear_.

* * *

 _Dear Mum and Dad,_

 _If you're reading this, then something happened to me. I wrote these letters for that purpose, because I knew what was going to happen eventually. Balance of probability and all that. You probably found these in my journal. And if nothing did happen and you just happened upon these, I'm going to have give a lecture. Don't worry, I've practiced._

 _However I died, whatever it may be, I suppose I should say I'm sorry for leaving. I didn't want to. There's too much on my to do list._

 _We'll get the business stuff out of the way first. First and foremost, take care of my horses. There's letters for our whole family here as well. Notes and cards and I painted little pictures. I want you to keep my locket and the dearest ring. Don't bury me with them. You gave it to me, and now I'm giving it back. I want a big funeral, but I know you probably don't. Let it just be the family. Just my friends too. Make sure they knew._

 _As much as you probably won't listen to me, I'm asking you from the deepest part of my soul not to feel guilty about my death. I know you love me, and I know you didn't want to ever lose me. I can only hope you know that I'll never blame you. Hold onto each other. Hold on to our family. Please continue living and loving. Don't give up, because you carry my memory too._

 _I'm not sure what comes next for me, if there is an afterlife or if the powers that be have a better place for the product of fiction. But I'd like to travel, I think. Drift through universes and realities at my leisure. Which includes staying by you here. Unseen. Unheard. But I'll be there. Here's hoping._

 _But if not, if this is it and I'm simply gone, I want you to know I lived well. I loved much. And I could not have asked for better souls to surround myself with. I do wish things had been different. That I'd been able to travel more, and get a job. It sounds so glamorous, having a job and working to help others. My wedding would have been perfect, I'm quite sure. And having children? I think I'd want two at least. I'd plan them out just right. I think I could have made a difference out there, given the chance. Maybe in some other reality, in another part of the universe I've got all that and more._

 _And finally, I love you. So, so very much I can't even begin to understand how to express it. Maybe we're not meant to express it in full. Language, even physical affection, is just the tip of the ice burg when it comes to feelings, isn't it? I tried my best. I love you until the stars burn out and the galaxies fade. You are and were my role models. My guardians. My guidance. And my wings. I was born to fly, and I did. Never doubt that. Never ever doubt that._

 _Love eternally and forever yours, Zariah Hope Celestia Holmes_

Zariah put down the pen after flourishing underneath her long name with a swirly line. Seated at her desk in her room, she had tears in her eyes and a tightness in her chest. She'd saved her parent's letter for last. And it'd been harder than she had thought it would be.

Wiping at her eyes with her sleeve, she composed herself. She folded up the page, slipped it into an envelope, and tucked it into the front cover of her journal. She had something to do.

Seconds later she was out of the room and maneuvering through the halls of their home. She crashed into her father with little warning, wrapping arms around him and tucking herself into his welcoming embrace. She took a deep shaky breath and then spoke softly in Enochian.

Zariah always said it like it was going to be the last time. Because someday, it would be.

 _"I love you, Daddy."_


End file.
